Blue Eyes And Kisses
by nodistancelefttorun
Summary: Kid!Klaine. Oneshot. Seven-year-old Blaine runs away from home. A boy with blue eyes finds him.


**A/N: Okay so this is a kid!Klaine fic, which I have recently become obsessed with - thanks Clara -, and I'm not going to rant about it here because kid!Klaine is so freaking adorable and cute I'm going to cry if I think about it for too long.**

**I may or may not want to strangle Blainers' idiot parents. But I love Cooper. Sigh.**

**Now I'm going to go study! Yay for being productive.**

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**Blue Eyes And Kisses**

It was around 7pm on a Saturday night and the Anderson household was buzzing with sounds and laughter. Mr Anderson was a real success at the new company he had started working for six months ago, and he had been promoted recently. Delighted that her husband was finally bringing in some extra cash for her to spend on that lovely dress she had had her eyes on for months, mrs Anderson threw him this little party in his honor.

The wine bottles had been opened a while ago and the adults were all pleasantly affected. Unfortunately, wine wasn't something either of the Andersons handled very well, though they'd never admit that to anyone. The last thing they wanted was for their perfect facade to crumble.

Mrs Anderson was just in the middle of a conversation with one of the neighbouring house wives when a little boy came running towards her, locks of dark curls bouncing on his head as he ran.

"Mommy, mommy!" the little boy cried in excitement. There was no response, but the little boy just kept grinning and bouncing around.

"Mommy, look! Look I made this in school, it's for you, look–"

Still no reaction. The two adults kept chatting between themselves, ignoring the child at their feet.

The child began tugging on the hem of his mother's dress to get her attention, smile ever so wide.

"Mommy, I-"

"_Blaine!_ I'm trying to have an adult conversation here, be quiet. Go play with your brother."

"But mommy, I made this for you-"

But mrs Anderson had had a few glasses of wine by then and was in no state to handle a needy child.

The sober day version of her would have hugged her son and said "oh, honey, it's beautiful!" before putting it on the fridge to be admired until his next picture replaced it. Instead her drunken version looked down at the little boy standing at her feet, only barely resisting slapping him for embarrassing her in front of the neighbours. She could just _feel _the judgment in the other woman's eyes.

Being part of the successful, wealthy part of town, she knew the importance of coming across as the wealthiest, most successful family at these little gatherings. The entire neighbourhood had been invited and showing off was the major reason. Having a clingy son hanging off her arm would _not_ make her neighbours leave the party feeling sick to their stomachs with jealousy. A clingy child didn't exactly spell out 'luxurious'.

She snatched the picture from his small hands, smashed it onto the fridge and grabbed a magnet to pin it with but missed with several inches. The picture fell to the floor and a passing guest stepped on it and crushed the small plastic diamonds Blaine had glued to the picture. His mother didn't even notice.

She had already turned back to the woman she had been talking to.

The message was clear: _go away._

But to a seven-year-old, it wasn't so clear. He just didn't understand where his mommy had went. Why was she being so distant with him?

"But mommy, you didn't even look," he whispered, still tugging on her dress, only much gentler now.

She distractedly swatted away his arm as he tried grabbing her hand.

Why was she upset with him? What had he done wrong?

"Mom–"

"Excuse me, I'll be right back," his mother told the woman in such a sweet voice it could have cured cancer, or at least caused caries.

She grabbed Blaine's arm and yanked him upstairs. Her grip on his arm was really hurting but he was too scared to say anything. It wasn't often his parents were this physical with him, but it had happened enough for him to know it was best to just keep quiet and hopefully it wouldn't get worse.

She threw him into his bedroom and pushed him onto his bed. He stared up at her, his eyes tearing up as he saw no sign of the loving mother he usually saw when looking at her.

"Now stay here until I come get you," she snapped. Then, obviously feeling guilty, she grabbed a book from the closest book shelf and thrust it into his hand. "This night is very important to mommy, so you can't distract her, okay?"

As if adopting that fake caring voice would shake away his sudden fear.

Before he could cling onto her and beg her not to leave, she had dashed downstairs again, slamming the door as she went.

He clutched the book in his arms, the edges cutting into his skin painfully. He glanced down at it to see which one it was, but his vision was too blurry to make out the title.

He put it down on the bed next to him and rubbed the tears out of his eyes before picking it up again.

It was the first book of the Harry Potter series. His mom read it to him all the time and he basically knew it by heart by now.

He drew a shaky breath and then shuffled over to sit in the corner of his bed, squished up against a few pillows with the book in his lap.

He opened it to the first page and, tracing the lines with his little finger, he started to read.

But something felt wrong. He couldn't concentrate and all the big words started to blur together.

He put the book down, scooted down the bed a bit and lay down with his head on the pillow and his knees pressed up against his chest.

He didn't even know he was crying until a salty tear found its way into his mouth.

He stubbornly wiped it away and sat up again. His father's scoldings from a few days ago came back to him like a strike of lightning – _"You are an Anderson, Blaine. We are not weak. Now stop crying and get back on the bike."_

Little Blaine had fallen off his bike that day and hurt his knee in the process. Like every other seven-year-old, he had started to cry. But his father grabbed him by the arm, tugged him up and put him back on the bike, telling him that _"Andersons don't quit."_

The words rang through his head now too, and he decided that he wasn't going to sit around and cry all night.

He took a few deep breaths, because that's what his mommy always told him to do when he got upset. He picked up the book again, heavy in his tiny hands, and padded over to the door. He opened it and peered into the hallway. He could hear the sounds coming from downstairs, and occasionally his mother's laugh would find its way to his little ears.

He put a hand to his chest, hoping it would soothe the ache there. It didn't.

He went back into his room and grabbed his purple backpack with the Pokemon stickers on it. He carefully picked out a few framed pictures of his family that he had on the wall, and then wrapped them up in a sweatshirt before putting them on the bottom of the backpack.

Then he spent a few heartbreaking moments trying to select which of his precious bowties to take with him. He collected them, and he had almost thirty of them so far. They were his most prized possessions.

He picked out ten of them, and put all the little boxes in the backpack as well. Once the bowties were packed, it didn't leave much room for more, so he zipped it shut and hauled it onto his back.

He carefully pushed the door open with his toes and stepped outside, closing it gently behind him.

He went over to a cupboard on the other side of the hall and rummaged through it for a few seconds before he found what he was looking for. He grabbed a flashlight – the one with Finding Nemo on it – and carefully pocketed it.

Then, clutching the book tightly to his chest, he crept down the stairs. The party was centered in the living room, which was several rooms away, so no one caught him.

He slid into a pair of sandals and carefully opened to front door.

He hesitated a little, but then stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

His mommy wouldn't miss him, she was too busy with her guests, and his daddy– well. He would probably not even realize he was gone.

He hummed softly to himself as he padded down the garden path, past the ridiculous statues that he had always hated, and out onto the street. He stood there for a while, rocking back and forth on his heels, wondering where to go.

He decided to go to the park. He and his brother went there all the time, so he knew how to get there.

It was only a ten minute walk from his house, but when he got there, he was _exhausted._

The backpack was really heavy and he almost dropped his book a few times.

He looked out over the playground for a few seconds, and he had never felt more grown up.

Maybe this could be his new home.

He went over to the little play house placed in the center of the playground, and carefully peered inside.

There was a little table and two small chairs on either side of it. He went inside and was just about to sit down when he saw a huge spider on one of the chairs.

He squeaked and jumped in fright. He _hated_ spiders.

He quickly grabbed his backpack and fled the house. Instead, he went over to the slide that was attached to a tower and sat down at the top of the slide.

He put the backpack beside him, pulled out the flashlight and flipped the book open.

This was much better. He could focus here, and there wasn't any noises to distract him. He could vaguely hear traffic nearby, but he easily tuned it out.

Blaine had always had a world of his own trapped inside his head. It was his go-to place when his reality was too scary or too hard to live in. He usually took refuge in his head whenever his parents were fighting, or when they got really upset with him.

Tonight though, it felt like his inner world was not enough anymore. Which was why he ran away.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, on the cold slide with the book perched in his lap. He just knew that he felt very cold and he had read the entire first chapter of the Philosopher's Stone when something behind him startled him so much that he accidentally went down the slide.

His backpack was still up in the little tower, and his heart was pounding at the thought of losing all his bowties.

Maybe it was a murderer or a kidnapper – his daddy had told him all about those people and how dangerous they were. Or, even worse – maybe it was a bowtie napper...

The thought made him take a few steps back, as a security measure.

He squinted in the poor lighting to see who had scared him so much. His flashlight was still up in the tower, and he felt even smaller than usual.

"I'm sorry I scared you," came a soft voice from the top of the slide.

Blaine squinted even harder to try and see who it was. It sounded like an angel's voice – high and clear. It was soothing, and Blaine automatically relaxed.

Something so beautiful couldn't be dangerous.

"I didn't mean to," the voice continued, and before Blaine knew it, the person went down the slide, too.

The other person tumbled into him and they both fell to the ground, Blaine with the other person on top of him.

"I'm really sorry!" the voice squeaked. Blaine could see a little better now.

"Who are you? Are you going to kill me?" he asked, fear building inside him again. Then, anxiously, he added, "Are you gonna kidnap my bowties?"

"No! Here, let me–"

Suddenly Blaine's flashlight went on, and the up-til-now bodiless voice aimed it to his face so Blaine could see more properly.

Blaine thought he was going to die, or at least pass out, because in front of him stood the prettiest boy he had ever seen.

In the soft glow of the flashlight, his blue eyes were clear and pale, and his skin was the palest Blaine had ever seen. He was _beautiful_.

He breathed out heavily, and took the flashlight from the boy, mumbling a quick, "Thanks."

"What are you doing?" the boy asked curiously.

"I'm reading," Blaine said.

"Why are you reading out here? It's so cold," the boy said.

Blaine frowned. "Because I want to."

The boy nodded seriously, not questioning this. When Blaine didn't say anything more, he added, "I like to read, too. Maybe we could read together? I don't have my own book or anything, but–"

"Of course," Blaine said, his lips suddenly tugging into a smile. No one ever wanted to read with him. Except for his brother now and then. "My book is still up there though."

"That's easy!" the boy said, "I'll just climb up and get it."

And instead of going around the tower to climb up the stairs, he backed up a few steps and ran up the slide, grasping the sides to pull himself up.

"That was really cool," Blaine called up to him.

He shone the flashlight over the boy's face, and saw him grabbing Blaine's backpack and book before going down the slide again.

"Here," he said, handing it over.

"Thanks."

"I'm Kurt, by the way," the boy said, and extended his hand.

Blaine shook it solemnly, like he had seen his daddy shake hands with other grown-ups, and said, "I'm Blaine."

"That's a really pretty name," Kurt said, and smiled.

Blaine was a little startled. No one had told him that before – at least not a _boy_. That wasn't right, was it? At least that's what his daddy used to say.

"Come on, let's read," Kurt said, and reached over to take Blaine's hand in his. At feeling Blaine's skin against his, the boy gasped. "You're ice cold!"

"I'm fine," Blaine muttered. The boy was starting to sound like his mother.

"No, you're going to be sick," Kurt said stubbornly, and squeezed Blaine's hand to warm him up. "Let's go read in the house instead. My daddy always says that the best cure for cold is cuddles."

Blaine giggled and let Kurt tug him along to the little play house.  
But then he remembered the spider, and he suddenly didn't want to go anymore.

"Uh... Kurt?" he said uncertainly, chewing at the inside of his lip. "I'm– I'm scared of spiders and I think they live in there."

Kurt stopped too. "Oh. Well I'm not afraid of them, so if we see a spider, I'll protect you."

He smiled widely and tugged a little on Blaine's hand again, and he couldn't possibly say no to Kurt's sweet smile.

They went inside and pulled the chairs next to each other so they could sit as close as possible.

"This is a big kids book," Kurt said as Blaine opened it. He frowned softly. "There are so many big words."

"I can read it to you," Blaine promised. "I'm really good with words."

Kurt nodded, and as Blaine started to read, a little shakily at first because of nerves, Kurt scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Blaine's tiny waist.

When Blaine turned to look at him, Kurt just shrugged. "I don't want you to be cold."

Blaine decided that it was okay, and continued reading.

Kurt held the flashlight for him with his free hand, lighting up the pages so Blaine could read.

After a while – or about three pages – there was a loud voice calling Kurt's name somewhere in the distance.

"That's my daddy," Kurt said, yawning a little. "Where is your daddy?"

Blaine closed the book. "I don't like my daddy very much, so I ran away."

Kurt's pretty blue eyes widened. "You_ ran away_?"

Blaine nodded. "I live here now."

"You can't live_ here_," Kurt said, poking him gently in the ribs. "It's not safe."

Blaine shrugged. "It's nice here."

Kurt put on a determined face. "Then I'm staying here too."

"What if you get cold?" Blaine said, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Kurt giggled. "Then we can cuddle and you can read to me."

Blaine grinned at him. That sounded really nice.

But the man's voice came closer, and Kurt sighed.

"Wait here, I'll go tell daddy I live here now."

Blaine stayed put while Kurt went away. He peered out of one of the windows in the little house, and he could just vaguely see Kurt running up to a man and climbing up in his arms.

"There you are, buddy!" the deep voice called again. "What did we say about going where I can't see you? You could've gotten lost."

"But I made a new friend, daddy!" Kurt said, clutching at his father's jacket. "He lives here and I wanna live here too. He's really nice and he has really pretty hair and–"

"I'm sure he doesn't actually live here," the man said, frowning down at his son.

"But he does! He ran away, daddy. He's really cute and I really like him."

The man smiled down at his son and kissed his forehead.

Blaine couldn't remember the last time his daddy had kissed him.

"Why don't you introduce me to your little friend, bud?"

"Okay! He's in our house," Kurt said, very seriously.

The man carried Kurt over to the house, and then put him down so he could go inside and get Blaine.

"Hi there, buddy," the man said, peering at Blaine through the dark. "I'm Burt, Kurt's dad. Where's your parents?"

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "I ran away."

"They're gonna be worried if you don't come home," Burt said calmly. "How about you tell me where you live and me and Kurt give you a ride, huh? Sound good?"

Blaine frowned. "I don't wanna go back."

"Your parents are probably worried about you," he insisted.

Little Blaine shook his head. "They don't care."

"Of course they care," Burt said. "Come on, let's get you home before you catch a cold."

"I don't wanna," Blaine persisted, hugging himself tightly.

"Daddy, can't he come with us?" Kurt asked, tugging on Burt's jacket sleeve. "He seems sad."

"Sorry kiddo, we'd have to ask his parents first," Burt said, ruffling Kurt's hair.

Kurt pouted. "I don't understand why he has to go back if he doesn't wanna."

"Well," Burt said, thinking hard, "Blaine's parents love him very much and they would be very upset if he didn't come home. Just like I would be very upset if I had lost you just now."

Kurt nodded his understanding. "Okay."

"Now, how about I give you a ride home, kid?" Burt said to Blaine.

The boy hesitated, glancing between Kurt and the play house.

He did feel sleepy after having been outside for so long. Maybe going back home wouldn't be so bad. And he _did _miss the rest of his bowties.

"I'll even talk to your parents and see if you can come over and play with Kurt some day," Burt promised, squeezing Blaine's shoulder.

"Really?" the boy asked, beaming up at him as though Burt had just given him the best present ever.

"Absolutely, kiddo," Burt nodded. "But we need to go now, okay? And then you can play all you want, some other day."

"Okay," Blaine said. He picked up his backpack and reached for his book, but Kurt got to it first, and with his free hand he grabbed Blaine's.

Their fingers laced together and they smiled at each other.

Burt couldn't help but smile as well, and then ushered the two boys to the parking lot where they had parked the car.

He could vaguely hear the two boys whispering ahead of him, but he tried not to eavesdrop, but it was really difficult to not intervene when he heard their next conversation.

"Do you wanna play with me tomorrow?" Blaine asked nervously. "My mommy and daddy are having another party so I won't have anything to do."

"You can come over to my house and we can have a tea party and play dress up!" Kurt exclaimed, happily squeezing Blaine's little hand in his. "I can read from one of my favorite books, and then you can read something for me too."

"Are boys allowed to play dress up and have tea parties? I want to but my daddy says it's just for girls."

"Oh," Kurt said, and Burt could almost hear the frown in his voice. "I didn't know that..."

"Of course you can play dress up, kiddo," Burt finally interrupted. "You can do whatever makes you happy."

"My daddy says that boys playing dress up is just as wrong as two boys getting married," Blaine said, biting his bottom lip.

"Don't worry about what he says," Burt said firmly. "The important thing is to be happy, no matter what other people say. You can marry anyone you want to."

As they passed a street lamp, he could see Blaine turning around and grinning at him.

"Okay, sir," he said politely.

"Call me Burt, buddy," Burt said and smiled at him.

"Okay, Burt," Blaine corrected himself, blushing a little. Then he turned to Kurt with a shy, "I'd love to have tea with you, Kurt."

"Yay!" Kurt exclaimed, positively beaming at him. "I'll even let you use my nice tea set. It's only for important people."

"That's really generous of you, Kurt," Burt said and patted his hair.

They had reached the car, and he buckled the boys' seat belts in the back seat before climbing into the driver seat and starting up the engine.

He could hear the boys chatting behind him as he pulled out of the parking lot. They had thankfully moved past the society stereotype issues. Kurt was currently listing his all-time favorite Broadway musicals.

When they finally pulled up outside of a big nice house in one of the nicer neighbourhoods, Burt turned around to look at the boys, only to see them sound asleep, their fingers laced together and Blaine's face nuzzled into Kurt's shoulder.

He took a few seconds simply admiring them. They seemed to fit together so perfectly, like a puzzle. God knows Kurt needed a friend. He always seemed so lonely.

Maybe Blaine was the missing puzzle piece in their lives.

"Hey, it's time for Blaine to go home now," he said finally, softly squeezing Kurt's knee to wake him up.

His eyelids flickered open, and he glanced down at the mop of hair that was visible to him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Blaine and firmly closed his eyes, burying his face in Blaine's soft curls, pretending to fall asleep again.

Burt chuckled. He could tell Blaine was awake now, too, his eyelids flickering in a tell-tale way, but he pretended to sleep as well.

The boys had probably planned this on the ride over.

"How about I go ask your parents if you two can have a sleep over?" Burt suggested.

Both boys' eyes snapped open immediately, and they grinned in unison.

Burt left the car and went to knock on the Anderson door. Blaine and Kurt came strolling after him, hands still linked together.

A boy, probably thirteen or fourteen years old, came to open the door.

"How can I– hey, it's Blaine!"

The boy reached forward and pinched Blaine's arm, making him wince and rub his arm while glaring up at the boy. "Where have you been? We were worried, squirt."

Blaine looked ashamed. "'m sorry, Coop."

"It's okay, buddy. Don't do it again, though. Okay?" he said. Then, turning to Burt and extending his hand, he said, "I'm Cooper, by the way. Blaine's brother."

"Burt. Kurt's father," Burt said and shook his head.

Blaine shed the shameful look and started bouncing up and down again. "Coop, look, this is my new best friend Kurt!"

Kurt beamed at him. "I am?"

Blaine turned to him, a horrified expression on his face. "Aren't we best friends? I thought–"

Kurt threw himself on him, wrapping his tiny arms tightly around Blaine's neck, whispering, "We're besties for life."

Blaine hugged him back, grinning.

"Coop, can I go play with Kurt?" Blaine asked when they let go, bouncing on his feet.

"It's too late, B," he said, carding his fingers through his curls. "Maybe tomorrow."

Blaine's smile fell, but then Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and his lips tugged into another smile.

"We'll play tomorrow, Blainers," Kurt promised.

Blaine grinned at the nick name. "Okay, Kurtsie."

They hugged again, holding tightly on to each other, and then Burt picked up his son and Blaine went to stand next to Cooper, holding his hand tightly.

Blaine stood on the threshold staring after the two as they climbed into the car and drove away. Just before they turned out of sight, Kurt blew him a kiss through the window of the car. Blaine caught it and clutched it to his chest, smiling softly.

"Time to go to bed, Blaine," Cooper said, leaning down to pick him up. The how-could-you-run-away-we-were-so-worried-conversation could wait til tomorrow. Blaine was safe now, anyways, so it wasn't important. Blaine was smart, he knew he'd done wrong. He didn't need someone yelling at him to understand that.

"Coop, did you see him? Did you see how pretty he was? He's the prettiest boy I've ever seen!" Blaine said, curling his arms around his brother's neck as he carried him upstairs.

"He's very pretty," Cooper agreed, grinning.

"Coop," he said slowly, as he tucked him into bed. "Kurt's daddy said... he said that two boys can love each other like mommy and daddy love each other. Is that true?"

Cooper stiffened as he was about to leave. He slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, and looked down on Blaine's tiny, hopeful face.

"I... well. Our dad..."

But Blaine's eyes were shining so brightly, so hopefully, that he couldn't stand to break his little heart.

Who cared what that homophobic asshole thought, anyway?

Cooper would always be there to protect his little brother against bad people – even if that bad person was their father.

He gently brushed away a few curls that fell into Blaine's forehead. "You can love whoever you want to, buddy. It doesn't matter if it's a boy or a girl, as long as you're happy. Okay?"

Blaine grinned happily. Then he turned on his side, still facing his brother, and nuzzled into his pillow.

A fond smile stretched over Cooper's lips.

"Go to sleep, Blainey," he said, and stood. He walked over to the door and flicked the lights off, leaving the room pitch dark except for the ray of light coming from the hallway. He could only barely make out his face.

Just as he was about to leave the room, he could vaguely hear his little brother mumbling, "I think I love Kurt."

Cooper turned around and looked at him. Blaine had already fallen asleep.

He smiled.

"Of course you do, B," Cooper chuckled, and went back to the bed to press a kiss to Blaine's curls.

He turned around and left, leaving his brother to a night full of dreams filled with blue eyes and soft kisses on the threshold.

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**A/N: SIGH. Aren't they just _adorable_? I can just imagine them playing dress up (and Blaine getting all excited because Kurt has really nice clothes and he's not used to being able to wear high heels and glitter since his dad is a narrow-minded jerk) and then getting pretend-married and then fifteen years later they get married for real and then _their_ kids get pretend-married to other kids and... now I'm crying, great. They just give me all the feels.**

**And isn't Cooper amazing? I love him so much, sigh. I kind of imagine him and Blaine being best friends and, like, helping each other when their parents are being douchebags. *feels***

**And yeah, no, I'm not going to study. Screw maths. I'm going to write more kidfics instead. YAY.**


End file.
